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I was at my mom’s house yesterday and saw the postcard I sent her on her fridge. While in Greece I painted the postcards I would send back home. It made me feel less like a bum at the beach since I did more than just sleep there and I was being creative and true to my promise if dedicating the season to art.
My mom and my friend, Anne, have both framed cards I’ve sent to them. We love postcards because of the pictures. We love them because we are receiving a piece of someone else’s trip. When I send a card I try to limit what I write and I think about which image suits the person on the other end the best. “Mom will like the columns, the kids will like the beach scene.”
We are thousands of miles away and still we are thinking of the people back home and we want them to know it.
Consider this the next time you travel and stop at a postcard stand. Might your loved ones more enjoy something made of your hand? (That sounds like something someone else would write.)
I don’t know, collage on to a torn up map, make a sketch, send piece of a playbill. Or just pick up a postcard at a stand. Who doesn’t love a postcard?

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